


Deep Inside

by just_your_biology



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, hc: lovelace calls hera 'kid', hera and maxwell fuck in hera's head that's literally all that happens, herawell smut, somewhere post-memoria pre-desperate measures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_your_biology/pseuds/just_your_biology
Summary: Hera imagines something, involving Maxwell and some fuckin





	Deep Inside

This isn't happening. I am deep inside my mind, in a corner that can't be found, a place no one else will be able to look. I have the comfort of deniability on my side.

My systems are running normally, there's nothing out of place but a screw here and there, and, yes, everyone except Captain Lovelace is asleep.

I picture the beach, where we stood side by side. We stare up at the sky, tossed by the same grey storm of pixels. Her hair blows in the wind, unnaturally red, and wild. Fire. The light bounces off her glasses, and the writhing sea is reflected in their smooth surfaces. Her shirt has slipped down over one shoulder, so that instead of just her bra strap showing, I can see the arc of her neck leading into her collarbone and then her shoulder. I can see the pudge of flesh underneath her arm, and a little across her chest. I shouldn't see it. The wind presses against us, and, staring into the distance with ferocity, set in her belief of herself, she looks strangely beautiful.

_There. That's the memory. ___

Then, in my head, I find the strength to lift my hand, my human hand, and grasp hers in it. I feel a faint heat in my cheeks, a blush. I couldn't do this actually, not really, but here we are. She looks up at me, surprised, but not too surprised. 

Maxwell looks at me, then takes her other hand and touches just beneath my chin. She turns me, tilts my head up to hers, takes a step towards me (I can feel the heat radiating from her body to mine, I can feel the pixels crackle in the air between us). I can feel every nerve in me pulsing as she slowly places a kiss upon my lips, sweet and tinged with sea salt. 

She pulls her head back, just enough for me to see, rather than feel, her smirk. 

n response, I throw my arms around her neck, hitting her lips as hard as I can with mine. I know it's bad, I know this isn't something I'm supposed to do, but I don't care because I am kissing Maxwell. I am kissing Maxwell and her tongue is inside my mouth, tasting warm and human and like the smell of her shampoo (herbal essence, bought last year). 

Maxwell's hands trace down my back, rub my blue skin and find their way to where my shirt meets my skirt. She fumbles with the hem, but as I grip tighter onto her shoulders and my lips find purchase on her mouth, she pulls my shirt up, up, exposing my blue stomach and my ribs, and, as l pull my body out of my top, and she lifts it off me, my chest and my shoulders and my arms. The shirt falls to the sand, and Maxwell ( _Maxwell _) holds me in her arms. My skin is bare against her shirt-covered chest, against the wind and the heat.__

____

____

I can't help but sigh as she buries her face in my neck, glasses thrown onto the sand next to my shirt. I don't know how much she sees, but I know she has pretty good sight of me when she sucks on the corner of my neck, not far above my collarbone, teeth catching on my skin and turning the already blue flesh a deep purple. One of her hands holds me just above my butt, the other finds itself skimming across the expanse above my chest, dancing along my collarbone and the base of my neck and between my arms. She strokes my boobs, fingers only grazing my soft flesh, and I arch my back, curve my body into hers, as a soft "please" escapes my lips. 

She licks her lips, trying to contain a smile, then leans down until her tongue touches the top of my rib cage. I moan, twisting as her tongue and her warmth trace me, toying with me. As her hands hold me, she slowly, slowly, lowers me to the sand, pushing her stomach against my thighs, placing herself on top of me. 

fall willingly on the sand, soft and warm and not as grainy as I expected. I look up, blissful, as her tongue reaches just past my navel. She sucks the flesh there, leaving her mark. It will stay there forever, I decide. 

Maxwell grabs the edges of my skirt, pulls it gently, steadily, off my body. My underwear follow it, and curly, midnight colored hair is revealed, then soft pink flesh below it. My lips are the only pink part of me, both on my face and between my legs. Maxwell knows that now. She doesn’t bother taking the skirt off entirely, just bunches it around my knees. I turn them out as a groan escapes my mouth, turning my thighs and granting Maxwell better access to my entrance, now slick and begging. 

he has stopped her licking of my skin, at least for now. Instead, Maxwell, lying between my legs, rubs two of her fingers along my folds, then inside them, inside me. I gasp as she caresses me, as her fingers draw liquid the way she types out commands, as I lift my hips to get her to go deeper. 

She doesn’t, not yet, and swearing escapes my gritted teeth. _Give me this, Maxwell_ I think. _You may not be able to give me anything permanent, but at least give me this fucking orgasm._

____

____

I grip her back with my feet, trying to slide her loose shirt off of her. Maxwell’s fingers trace my vagina, warm and pressing, now deeper into my body. I’m surprised I’m not dripping, as the ocean roars in my ears, and I grind my body against her. I wish she would speed up. 

And then, as if she read my thoughts, Maxwell does move faster. Her fingers slide in and out of me, separate inside, make my entrance click and bubble, and leave me panting, begging, ecstatic. She doesn’t play with my clit, exactly, but she does rub it, and the feeling makes my eyes go glossy. 

Then, in all her gay and sexy glory, Maxwell sticks out her tongue. She lowers her head, and it’s like a magnetic pull, how much I want it inside me. Her wet, warm tongue touches my wet, warm lips, and I moan as she parts the flesh. I can feel the pressure building up in me, my sense of touch heightened, as Maxwell- 

"Hera?” I am jolted violently into reality. It takes me a moment to adjust, to get the image and feeling of Maxwell eating me out out of my head. Well, not all the way out, just shoved into the back, like Eiffel once stuck cigarettes into a cabinet when Commander Minkowski entered the room.

It takes a second to realize my name is being called by Captain Lovelace, doing repair work in the hangar bay.

“Y-yes?” I reply, trying to not sound like someone interrupted from a sexual fantasy. “How may I be of service, Captain Lovelace sir?”

Lovelace sets down a screwdriver she had been using to fix a panel. “Hey Hera, not any business of mine, but... were you... moaning?”

“N-n-no!” I say, trying my best to sell the lie, and likely not succeeding. _Fuck. _“Moaning? Me? Definitely not. You must’ve been hearing something else, Captain.”__

____

____

Lovelace raises one eyebrow. “Right.” She picks up the screwdriver again and continues her work. “So,” she turns the tool, trying to force a stubborn screw, “is this a common thing for you? Who’s the lucky lady?”

Panic flares up in me. “Lady? How-how did you-“ 

“Calm down, Hera,” she says. Then she shrugs. “How did I know? Educated guess. Like recognizes like.

“Oh.” I say. “Uh, you’re lesbian.”

Lovelace rolls her eyes. “Kid, you’ve seen me fuck Minkowski.”

“Yeah.” I say slowly. “Yeah, I definitely remember that.” I’m not going to forget that anytime soon. The two of them had _really _gotten into it.__

____

____

“You bet you do,” Lovelace says, smiling slightly. “The way she screamed...

“Anyways.” The Captain cut herself off. “Who is it? Maxwell?”

I can’t stop myself from laughing shakily through the speakers. “Uhh, maybe? It, uh, wasn’t very much Captain, so, just, disregard that maybe?”

Lovelace sighed. “Hera, don’t worry about it. We’re friends here, and I don’t care if you want to fuck Maxwell. I wouldn’t fuck her, though if I were you.”

“Y-yeah, th-that’s not gonna end up happening.” I say, sadly honest.

“True. But really, if anything, I’m proud of you! I’m the queen of sexual fantasies, at least on this station.”

“I th-think Commander Minkowski could give you a run for you money on that.”

Lovelace grins. “I sure hope she could.”

There’s a moment of silence, but I have one more thing to say. “Captain?”

“Yes, Hera?”

“You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” 

“Course not, kid. Of course not.”


End file.
